


Lost in You

by 13thDoctor, JHarkness



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Asgard, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Prison, Thor: The Dark World, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thDoctor/pseuds/13thDoctor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHarkness/pseuds/JHarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A storm was brewing, and Loki could not wait to take his place in its eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amarriageoftrueminds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarriageoftrueminds/gifts).



> This fic has been completely rewritten since its original publishing. Enjoy!

At night, the Asgard prison was home to a cacophony of sounds. Running water, the clinking of armor, and the turning of parchment whispered in the background. Louder, prisoners shouted across cells with taunts and threats and propositions, to each other or to the guards. Even in the cells with screens, Loki could identify the occupants by their unique languages and harsh voices. Tonight, however, the space was suspended in silence, like the sky before it snowed, holding its breath. Hours passed in infinite stretches as Loki stared at the fresh blood on his leg. He'd torn his cell to pieces again that afternoon and did not have the will to repair it. His quiet was born of despair and misery; the other prisoners had either been beaten into submission or felt that same pressure in the air. A storm was brewing, and Loki could not wait to take his place in its eye.

An echo pierced that grim silence, followed a second later by the determined step of leather boots. Loki started, pulled out of a light doze by the sounds. Smirking, he pulled a gauzy green tunic over his thin frame and waited, counting each angry footfall. It was a soldier’s drumbeat, and the battle was coming to him.

“Loki.” The demand came as soon as the marching ceased.

The other inmates looked on in morbid curiosity, wondering if the golden prince had come to murder the betrayer. Loki could hear their stinking breath, feel their blood lust. If their roles were reversed, he would also welcome the show of violence. Anything to alleviate the crushing boredom and distract him from his own masochistic musings.

Loki slid to the edge of the bed and scrutinized Thor. His grin was wide and complacent, but it did not reach his eyes. His heart beat frantically. “I see you’ve finally come to visit,” he observed, so careful to be casual, hissing out the words to mask his excitement. “What an honor.” His tone was caustic, scornful of the man before him.

Thor’s mask remained unbroken, unamused. “I require your assistance,” he said. The admission seemed to pain him; Loki could see how the words dragged out of him. This must be some last resort or final desperation in a plan gone terribly awry.

He laughed mockingly. “And why would I give you that?” He stared at him, bemused with the brashness of the idea. When Thor did not answer, his smirk turned crooked and cruel. “Begging help from such a pitiful creature, does it not abuse your sensibilities? You must be truly desperate.”

Once more, Thor remained stoic. He paced slowly along the edges of the cell, finally coming to rest at the locked entrance. When he pulled keys from beneath his cloak, it was as if they weighed more than the world. The distaste on his face was obvious, and it sparked a deep amalgamation of fury and anguish within Loki.

Loki could only glare as the prince strutted inside the room. He did not want him in this place because he did not want his control to slip; he did not want Thor to see through his carefully constructed illusion. Thor was a distraction, which was why Loki never once conjured him in his fantastical interactions.

“I would remove you from this place.” Thor circled restlessly around the small space, avoiding contact with the prisoner. Since the other inmates had since lost interest, it went unnoticed when Loki cast a mirage around the room, hiding his intruder’s presence.

Loki yawned and sprawled back on the ornate headboard—the headboard that was split in multiple places but seemed whole to Thor—feigning disinterest in the offer. He examined his nails. He picked at the unraveling threads of his tunic. He looked at Thor when Thor was looking away, and he bit his tongue to keep his happiness buried deep.

“What I am asking of you... it is treason,” Thor confessed softly. Loki distinctly realized that Thor thought making the task illicit would make the offer itself more desirable.

He was right.

Loki’s ice blue eyes glinted with malice as he considered the offer. It was tempting, yes, but so was displeasing his royal highness. He cocked his head to the side, delighting in his torment of Thor. “I have to say, I’m disappointed in you.”

Thor gestured at Loki as if he would strike him. “You would do best not to taunt me.”

Harsh laughter split the heavy air of his cell as Loki leaned back once more, delighted. He slid flat onto his back and on the bed. What could Thor do to him that had not already been done? They would both endure this frustration if Loki had any say in the matter.

Thor cursed and stomped over to him, hands and jaw clenched. He plucked Loki from the silk sheets and threw him easily against the headboard before dragging him beneath his own body. Loki gasped, the heady mix of terror and pleasure he felt when Thor touched him making his chest tight; his tongue was heavy as he attempted to speak, his bones lead as he pretended to struggle. The epitome of rage, Thor slammed his fist next to Loki’s head, but the soft sound it made hitting pillows and royal silks was laughable. Loki smirked.

“Why have you come here, Thor?” He tipped his chin up to bare his throat--an unspoken offering, the closest he would come to begging _please_. The word almost escaped as a whimper, and he swallowed it. “At the very least I deserve your honesty.” His words were parchment-thin, dripping off his tongue with deliberate languor.

Thor stiffened. His arms were extended at their full length on either side of Loki’s neck, taking him prisoner in the embrace. His thighs, which Loki ached to touch, framed Loki’s ribs, holding him down. His shoulders blocked the artificial light above. And still; still Loki would have preferred to feel more of Thor against his body, to trace muscles, scars--some of which he had put there--and chase the sunlight and lighting on his skin. Loki could feel the heat from his body as easily as the cold in his own.

“You deserve nothing,” Thor said bitingly. Loki’s hands, useless at his sides, twitched. He wanted to reach up and smooth the anger out of Thor’s expression. Instead, he turned his face to the side and let Thor’s hair glide against his cheek. There was barely space between them now; Thor straddled Loki’s lean body, their chests almost flush, as he growled into his ear, “I did not lie when I asked for your help, but such a task proves challenging without trust.”

A caustic laugh pushed its way from Loki’s lungs. He licked his lips and rolled his eyes, still staring anywhere but Thor’s betrayed eyes. Thor caught his chin and forced him to see that betrayal. Loki could feel the twist of the knife in that look, could feel Thor’s hand digging into the flesh of his stomach. When he tore his face from Thor’s grasp, he looked down to see Thor’s fingers under his tunic, nails indeed creating half-moons in his skin. The sting of it made Loki gasp. He bit his tongue, chest shuddering, and made a fist at his side.

“Is this a business call, or a social one?” He jeered, trying to mask the desire in his voice. Thor only wrinkled his nose. He pulled a strand of Loki’s dark hair from its place, twisting it around his finger tight enough to hurt. Smiling, Loki finally moved, lifting his leg as much as Thor’s hold on him would allow. With his knee he pushed Thor forward, knocking him off balance enough that he had to grab the headboard. Loki took the opportunity to prop himself up on his elbow. He turned his face into Thor’s neck and bit a mark into the softest spot there, just below his jaw.

“Do you protest?”  Thor’s strong brow raised, confident in the answer to his request.

“Never.” Loki’s answer was barely audible; it was more breath than word. _I’ve been waiting for you_ and _You can always have me_ were things he wanted to say. They stuck in his throat like the afterburn of liquor.

They stayed like that for a while, Loki breathing in Thor’s scent and warmth; Thor holding his breath, gripping the headboard as if he could muscle his way out of his lust. Loki was the first to break the spell of it and kissed a line to Thor’s mouth, ending at the corner of his lips. He cupped his cheek.

“Don’t deny yourself this,” he murmured, and _yourself_ sounded a lot like _me_.

Thor surged forward, his hands reaching for Loki’s neck. Loki inhaled sharply, expecting pain and rejection and refusal. Instead, a gentle kiss parted his mouth, consuming his skepticism in one slow movement. Loki moaned and opened himself completely to Thor, relaxing into his bed as Thor’s hands reached for the ties on his clothes. As Thor began to slide Loki’s leather overcoat off, Loki let the glamor on himself fade and focused it on the cell. Thor registered the change with less shock than he used to. He even smiled, sliding his hand down the thin material of Loki’s tunic.

“Easier to take off.”

Loki scoffed to hide his amusement, and Thor chased the sound with another kiss. This one was more forceful and ended only when Loki had to lift his arms to get the tunic off. He hissed when Thor’s cloak scraped over his bare chest and pulled at it haphazardly, annoyed by the layers of fabric separating their skin. He sighed in resigned frustration and worked on his own pants.

Chuckling as he deftly undid each tie and clasp on his clothes, Thor said, “I thought you were the clever one.”

“Shut up.” Loki grabbed the back of Thor’s head and smashed their lips together. He wanted to bruise Thor. Mark him. He bit his lower lip and grinned victoriously when Thor pulled away. A flash of excitement in his eyes, Thor ran his thumb over his swollen lip and rolled his hips over Loki’s, now completely bare. Loki did whimper then, each nerve in his body alight with need; he did not try to hide it this time and reveled in the way Thor flushed at hearing the sound. He made it again.

Part of him rebelled against the vulnerability of his position. Loki was completely at Thor’s mercy; wanting, throbbing, yielding. That part of him was silenced when Thor’s body covered his own--he had not noticed when Thor had finally shed all of his burdensome clothes, too lost in tracking the bare skin he could see--and his mind when blank. There was nothing now but need.

He wrapped his legs around Thor’s hips almost involuntarily, following his body rather than guiding it. Next he closed his arms around Thor’s shoulders, and Thor lifted him from the bed, setting only his shoulder back down. Loki’s hips he kept raised, running his hands up and down his shaking thighs, brow furrowed.

“I don’t have--” Thor began, voice thick but strained with frustration.

“But don’t you?” Loki breathed, looking to a spot next to the bed that was empty. Except it wasn’t, not anymore--Loki bit his own lip and lifted his eyebrows once, quickly, proud enough to border on cocky. He watched Thor try to hide a smile.

“I’ll wipe that damn smirk off your face,” he bantered as he slicked his fingers.

Loki rocked his hips against Thor’s, and, head falling back, countered, “I’d like to see you try.”

Suddenly, Thor dropped Loki flat onto his back. Loki shot a murderous look at Thor, wondering if this had been his plan all along--to leave him unsatisfied and cold. But Thor came back to him, lying on his side. He shoved at Loki’s shoulder until he did the same. Thor’s hand gripped his shoulder, and Loki melted back against Thor when he felt his other hand, wet, on his hip. Loki drew one of his legs to his chest. Making a small noise that was almost a plea, he reached for Thor, grabbing onto whatever skin he could reach. When he felt a finger pressing inside of him he hummed, rubbing circles into Thor’s thigh. Thor added a second finger. Loki writhed as his body pulsed around it, so Thor added another. “I will make you mine,” Thor promised, twisting his fingers. Loki gasped, the sound coming from the back of his throat, and fisted his hands into the silk sheets until his knuckles were white. Thor kissed the back of his neck adoringly.

Loki nearly screamed when Thor pulled his fingers away. He felt empty, almost as if a part of himself was missing. But Thor was not cruel. He gripped his cock and lined up, just pressing into Loki; then, he worked into him so gently that Loki wondered why he had every wanted this faster, harder. Thor held him as closely as he could. It was not enough.

With each thrust, Loki felt himself burning from the inside out, a heat more powerful than the eternal flame that was hidden away in Asgard’s vaults. He’d never been with Thor in a way that was not approaching violent. So often they started with trading blows and ended with Loki’s knees on the floor, or his back against a wall, mere minutes of rushed and messy fucking in between. This was different. Loki felt each roll of Thor’s hips, each breath against his hair. He closed his eyes and reached for his own cock, imagining what Thor’s face was revealing in these moments. He wondered what would happen if one day he made Thor watch.

“Oh,” he whispered to himself as he wrapped his hand around his cock. He moved slowly, keeping pace with Thor’s hips, and eventually felt Thor’s hand cover his own. Eyes still closed, he smiled and turned his head back for a kiss. It became a course of slow, deliberate, kisses, tongues never delving far before pulling away. Loki opened his eyes at one point and was not surprised to find they were wet with unshed tears. He was lost in Thor.

He would not mind never finding his way out again.

But, as with all things, the end of it came too soon. Feeling his body tense, he turned his shoulder over, pulling Thor half on top of him so he could thrust his hips into the bed as Thor’s cock slid in and out of him. The pressure was overwhelming and omnipresent. Quiet save for what small sounds he had been unable to keep to himself, Loki let himself shout as he came, glad at least that his forehead was pressed into a pillow. Thor pushed completely inside of Loki and did not pull away--he thrust through Loki’s climax, filling him and filling him like there was more space he just hadn’t found yet.

“You’ll kill me if you stop,” Loki managed to tell him. He knew he would despise himself later for such a display of weakness, but as he spilled onto the sheets and Thor’s hand and his stomach, he could not have cared less.

Thor could not resist his ending for long. Loki did not mind. What he had meant was, ‘ _you’ll kill me if you stop loving me_ ,’ but Thor did not need to hear the whole of it. He, too, shouted, loud as thunder and glorious as lighting. If his body could have allowed it, Loki would have been hard again.

Thor rolled off of him gracelessly, but Loki hardly noticed. He heaved stuttering breaths into the air. Focusing on slowing them was no easy task; now that the initial high of it had worn off, he knew Thor would begin to feel the scratches Loki had no doubt made in his skin. With the dull pain would come the dull anger, that inescapable feeling that Thor only experienced after either trusting or fucking Loki. Certain that was the only outcome, Loki curled away with a long, shuddering inhale when Thor reached for him.

“Loki.” Thor spoke tenderly, and the tone gave Loki pause. “Have I hurt you?” Loki, incredulous, turned back over to laugh at Thor for such a notion. He was met with smugness. Thor’s voice was haughty; “Your pride makes you easy to manipulate.”

Loki wished he was wrong.

Thor was flat on his back, one arm slung over his chest and the other reaching for Loki. Loki pretended to ignore the question inherent in the placement of his arm-- _come closer?_ A small smile tugged at Loki’s lips before he fought it into a grimace. Thor was not convinced, and pulled Loki into him. Loki had no protests or excuses. He had no authority to order Thor from his room. His cell. And he had no desire to, either.

“Was this all you wanted?” Loki decided to ask, watching Thor watch the other prisoners, oblivious in their cells.

“What?”

Loki ran his tongue over his teeth. He could still taste Thor in his mouth.

“I asked if this was what you wanted. To have me. You invented some enticing reason to be here so you could _be here_. There was nothing you needed.”

“So you admit you were enticed by the treason.”

Loki made a low sound of frustration and began to turn away.

“No--no, stop” Thor sighed. “This?” he motioned to their naked bodies, intertwined on Loki’s cell bed, sweat and cum stuck to their skin, “This was not planned. I truly need your help. I will admit that this was a pleasant addition.” He laughed. “Pleasant, and helpful.”

“Helpful?”

“I don’t trust you, but Loki--” Thor moved to flatten himself over Loki, holding down every part of his body, and kissed him with desperation. Loki kissed back with equal fervor, his cock already responding. He growled when Thor pulled away. Though his pupils were blown wide with lust, he still managed arrogance. “--Loki, you trust me with all you are.”

Stunned by the truth of it, Loki was frozen as Thor told him the plan. When he mentioned Jane Foster, Loki let the hatred in his stomach grow and hoped it showed in his eyes. Even with Thor lying on top of him, he felt cold, and eventually stared at the ceiling past Thor’s shoulder rather than facing him. Tears threatened behind his eyes. Thor left once Loki, jaw tight with rage, agreed to help.

 _‘I will make you mine,’_ Thor had said. Loki, when Thor was far away, said,

“But how can you, when I am already yours?”


End file.
